The Sound of Her Laugh
by ink-stained dreams
Summary: She didn't feel like such a yelping idiot when her laughter made Lysander's blue eyes light up like stars. Lily/Lysander, oneshot


**Pairing:** "Shakespearean Lily" Lily Luna/Lysander Scamander

**Word:** Laughter

**Quote:** "We know what we are, but know not what we may be."

**Written for "The BIGGEST Challenge EVER!" by wujy****

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Lysander has always made her laugh, and Lily thought that may be what she liked best about him. Whereas his brother was always disposed to airy musings and wandering on philosophical tangents, Lysander would take an everyday moment and imbue it with melodrama and humor. It was hard to keep a straight face when Lysander started in on something. Lily was the worst, always; she was the first to break down into hysterics, unable to control herself. Her laugh was too loud, she knew, and rather unattractive, to be honest. It consisted of howling and shrieking and sharp, wheezing intakes of breath—altogether the most un-girlish laugh Lily could imagine. But it wasn't as if she could stop it, anyway.

Besides, she didn't feel like such a yelping idiot when her laughter made Lysander's blue eyes light up like stars.

It was third year when she noticed that.

And it was fourth year when she noticed that he always looked at her after his jokes, as if he was waiting for her alone to laugh.

And it was her fifth year when she started noticing that he looked at her even when he wasn't playing the fool. It was then that she found herself looking at him, too, even when he was across the room.

Lily never thought she would be _that girl_, the one who fell for her best friend. That was reserved for romance novels and Muggle movies, where the girl in question was funny and talented and smart and beautiful. Lily was none of these, she knew: her comedic instincts were hopeless, she was a mediocre Quidditch player at best, her grades were only decent, and though her hair was a rather nice, vibrant red, it was stubbornly straight and accompanied freckles and pale skin.

Lily was average, always, but she just might have been in love with an extraordinary boy.

* * *

Lily stood in the small, snow-blanketed clearing, her gloved hands shoved deep in her pockets, her nose red with cold. Most people were scared to come by the Shrieking Shack; they thought it was creepy and foreboding. But not Lily. All she saw was something sad and lonely, something left behind. She liked to come and watching it move in the wind, a crisp and broken outline against the sky. It didn't hurt that no one else was ever there, either. Her large, many-branched family had taught her how to treasure time alone.

A pair of hands clapped over her eyes, the ice-cold fingers pressed against her eyelids.

Lily squeaked in surprise, her heart leaping into double-time.

"Who is it?" she demanded, trying to squirm around and figure out the identity of her ambusher. They kept turning with her and avoiding her flailing arms, staying just out of reach.

"Al? Is that you?" Her brother was a lover of practical jokes.

She gave up trying to outmaneuver the person behind her, who obviously refused to be caught, and stood still, concentrating. It felt like boy's hands, long-fingered and broad.

"Hugo? James?"

Lily reached up, her hands skimming over the arms. Thin. Wiry.

"Lysander?"

"Took you long enough," Lysander said, his voice laced with amusement. The hands lifted away, and Lily turned to face him. The blonde grinned cheekily at her.

"Your hands are bloody _freezing_, Lysander," she complained, but she was smiling, too. "I can't believe you don't have gloves on."

"You know me, Lily—" He winked at her, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She was grateful that the cold had already whipped her face pink, so it hid her ridiculous blush. "—I'm indestructible."

She snorted, quirking her eyebrows. "Hardly. Have you already forgotten when Rose smashed your face in?"

Then it was his turn to grow red, and he turned his eyes to the Shack, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "Yeah, well…I let her. Couldn't very well fight a girl, could I?"

Lily laughed, the warm breath leaving her throat in a frozen cloud. "I'm sure you did, Lysander. It had nothing to do with the fact that you told on her and Scorp to James turned her into a homicidal monster." She giggled again. "Not that I blame you for getting beat up, of course; us Weasley girls are fierce."

Lysander threw a glance at her so she could see him roll his eyes. "I did say it was an accident," he offered.

"I know. Not that it mattered to Rose, of course, judging by the spectacular right hook she gave you."

Her friend smirked at her. "I do have to admit, that punch was a bloody masterpiece."

Lily grinned and chuckled. She was always smiling around Lysander, it seemed.

An easy silence fell between them, and Lily turned to stare at the gently creaking Shack again. She shuffled her feet in the powdery snow, her exhalations blurring the air.

"Where do you think you'll be in ten years?"

The question surprised Lily, and it took her a second to realize that _she _was the one who asked it.

Lysander seemed unperturbed, though, his blue eyes still fixed ahead. She watched his face as he thought, until he finally said, "We know what we are, but know not what we may be."

Lily pursed her lips, annoyed. "Don't give me that philosophical spiel, Lysander. I really want to know."

And then he did look at her, his gaze as balanced as ever. "And that was really my answer." He tipped his head slightly, continuing, "I mean, people spend so much time worrying and planning, but in the end most of it doesn't make a difference. It's the moments in the now that really matter. It's our present that shapes our future." He was staring at her so steadily, and for once he wasn't joking or messing around, and suddenly Lily found it hard to breathe. He stepped closer, eating the already sparse distance between them. "It is the moments in the now that we must seize," he told her, his cobalt eyes holding her fast, "that determine where the chips will fall."

Lily was sure her face must be bright as a cherry, she knew that the whole world must hear the jittery racing of her heart.

"And…what moments…might you be talking about?" She cursed herself for sounding like a gasping cretin.

He noticed her nerves, and a smile slowly grew on his face. "Moments like this."

Lysander whispered the words and she could feel the heat of his breathing and he was so _very_ close to her and—

She was kissing him before she could stop herself. His lips were cold, and his fingers raised goose bumps as they cradled her face, but Lily couldn't find it in herself to care. He was Lysander, and she was Lily, and it was just _right_.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, pressing their foreheads together. Her eyes fluttered and her breathing was shallow. Lysander chuckled softly, his blue stare twinkling.

"As enjoyable as that was, Lily, I only have one charmingly handsome face, so I'd prefer if you didn't eat it."

Lily laughed her absurd, un-girlish laugh, and for once, with Lysander's face pressed against hers, it sounded beautiful.


End file.
